


say my name

by eurydici



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, in which sherlock is a little flustered, shameless flirting, sherlock trying to turn everything into evidence for a mystery that doesnt exist, some mindless fluff because they deserve it, this takes place at no discernible place in the canon timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 02:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydici/pseuds/eurydici
Summary: There are a lot of things Sherlock knows how to get herself out of, but the game that Wato Tachibana has decided they’re going to play is not one of them.





	say my name

**Author's Note:**

> (Sherlock doesn't say Wato's name nearly enough in s1, does she? It's incredible what situations can come out of a marathon Watolock talk with your best friend.)

She was in trouble.

 

If you walk through a door marked ‘danger’, it’s your fault. If you look danger right in the eye and decide it’s alright to proceed, it’s your fault. Sherlock knows what risks to take. She can calculate on her feet, she can calculate in her sleep, she can get herself out of hostage situations with a _gun_ to her head.

Tonight, Sherlock had all the clues. She saw the danger. Tonight, she let danger smile up at her and take her arm, only stumbling a little.

There are a lot of things Sherlock knows how to get herself out of, but the game that Wato Tachibana has decided they’re going to play is not one of them.

 

She had at least five opportunities to avoid this, Sherlock thinks. She can recall each one.

 

 _1.) 20:30. Wato Tachibana takes a second beer from Shibata. Wato smiles up at her from her spot at the table._  
_2.) 22:00. Wato Tachibana does not admonish her for refusing to participate in ‘team-building activities’._  
_3.) 23:14. Wato Tachibana follows her from the party._  
_4.) 23:19. Wato Tachibana veers from the path. Leans against the railing on the sidewalk. Sighs*._  
_(*Happily. Bites her tongue. Eyes flicker over the water. Cheeks are still flushed. Looks very pretty- She looks- She looks… No, if this is going to be evidence, this has to stay objective.)_  
_5.) Wato Tachibana looks at the water. She then looks over her shoulder. Studies Sherlock. Repeats her name. Wato says; “Sherlock. Sherlock. You have a nice name. I like the way your name feels to say.” and then adds- and it would be amiss not to mention the way her lips curl up playfully and her voice lilts a little when she speaks-: “You should try mine, Sherlock.”_

 

If she had left the apartment earlier, if she had made an excuse, any excuse, she could have left alone. Wato would have been happy to stay with Reimon, with Shibata, with Kento. She could have snuck out without Wato noticing, actually. Dealing with an irritated Wato in the morning, though unpleasant and grating and annoying, would be easier than dealing with a drunk Wato who wants nothing more than to hum a name over and over, playing with the way it sounds, playing with the syllables on her tongue, and Sherlock is _certain_ that the more she ignores Wato, the harder Wato will make it to ignore her.

_As if it’s not hard enough._

 

The rules are clear now. Wato wins if Sherlock says her name. Sherlock wins if she can just get Wato to come away from the water and go home. Sherlock wins _double_ , she thinks, if they can get in without Ms. Hatano noticing.

Sherlock should have been rewarded for good behavior, not tortured for it. She should be on an easy walk home, because she had done good. She had not touched anything besides the furniture- the clock counts as furniture- and Reimon shouldn’t have trinkets out that he doesn’t want guests to look at, anyway. 

She had not offended anyone besides Shibata, and that wasn’t her fault. He should thank her, actually, because you just don’t button both buttons on your jacket, (this is a team bonding night- not a funeral), and it’s alright for him to keep it that way if he wants everyone he interacts with to notice, but the least she can do is make sure he knows he looks foolish.  
When the room got too loud and when a broken glass made her jump, she chose to head home. Actually, she did better than good, she did perfect, and what does she get?

Wato leaning on the railing and ignoring her.

It’s been eight minutes and thirty seconds and Wato is _ignoring_ her. Wato ignores her, looks up at the sky and says, “It’s easy, _Sherlock_. Not until you say my name too. You have a whole… a whole list. A whole list of rules for me to follow. It’s my turn. Does my name feel good?”

Wato ignores her when she rolls her eyes in response.

Wato ignores her pacing and her hands mindlessly toying with her own scarf, ignores her suggestion that they go before everyone else heads out, before Hatano worries, before she gets hungry and leaves without her, because she is getting hungry and her face is feeling hot and does Wato _have_ to draw her name out like that, does her _breath_ have to sigh like that, and that’s it, she’s going home.

 

Or, she tries.  
She gets four steps away before Wato calls out, _“Sherlock-”_ and Sherlock has to turn, feels the the frustration rising in her chest and something in her throat tightens and she’s never known alcohol to take this long to make her feel lightheaded. She’s exasperated in a way that only Wato Tachibana can make her, only Wato has ever made her, only Wato has ever made her feel dizzy like this, and “Wato, it’s-”

 

Over.

 

The game is over.

 

Sherlock says Wato’s name and Wato’s expression breaks. She’s not quietly, playfully, _infuriatingly, inexplicably, impossibly, intoxicatingly_ averting her eyes. She’s smiling. She’s grinning. She’s laughing and it’s the sweetest sound, and she’s trying to cover her smile and she’s nodding, gathering her coat around herself and her steps are impossibly light as she brushes past Sherlock, starts down the sidewalk in front of her.

 

Sherlock lost. Sherlock lost a game she isn’t even sure she agreed to play. She was right from the start, she was in trouble.

What’s most jarring, she thinks, isn’t that she lost.

It’s that maybe Wato was onto something.

 

Wato does not hear her- she’s ten steps ahead and too busy reveling in her victory to pay attention to the woman shaking her head, running her hands through her hair as if she can clear her mind, as if she can begin to steady herself.  
“...Wato.” Sherlock repeats, her voice a murmur, hardly louder than the river they walk by, and a hundred times more gentle. ”Wato.”

 

No. What’s most jarring isn’t that she’s lost, but that oh, Wato was onto something.

 

It does feel good to say her name.

  



End file.
